


The Arrangement

by kittykimora



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV), The Vampire Diaries - L. J. Smith
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:18:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykimora/pseuds/kittykimora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a New York sex columnist conducts research for an article about anonymous sex, she has no idea where it will lead to. She certainly hadn't counted on the likes of deviant billionaire playboy, Kol Mikaelson. KENNETT</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Arrangement

"Your olive looks lonely"

Someone breathed against her neck eliciting a shiver as she spun around to snap at him. The words died in her mouth the moment she saw him, her challenge forgotten. Bonnie stiffened mouth slack as his lips curved into a slow, lazy smile. For some unknown reason her eyes remained there, fixed to luscious mouth. She caught a glimpse of his tongue as he spoke again and had to shake her head to rid her mind of the obscene thoughts she was now having about his tongue. A tongue she'd only met twenty seconds ago.

"Care for a refill, darling?" he drawled, dragging his gaze to her face, her wild green eyes, the slope of her nose until they settled on her lips. They hovered there for a while, waiting for her response.

"Uhmm…I'm waiting for someone" she muttered, raking a hand through her hair. Her eyes were still locked to his mouth, watching it intently, the way he mouthed his words, his white teeth and that flicker of tongue as he spoke. It was his English accent, she thought shifting on her barstool. That's the only reason she was staring at his mouth like that, it was that ridiculously seductive English brogue.

"Lucky someone" he grinned, settling onto a bar stool next to her, "They must be important, you look nervous" he added with her wink and a strange heat rippled through her.

"And you're still here? Look Mr.-"she pursed her lips, eyes narrowed as they began to scan the rest of his face. She noticed his ruffled dirty blonde hair, careful enough to steer away from his whiskey colored eyes. Caroline, her bestfriend would have called his eyes the Bermuda triangle for all Manhattan women.

"Fetish 101"

"What?" she shook her head, trying very hard to focus on whatever he was trying to say.

"I'm Fetish 101" he repeated and her pulse hastened faster than you can say .

"Oh, uhm…I'm sorry" Bonnies eyes widened as she recognized his screen name"…uhm…you said you'd be wearing a white tee-shirt and…"

"I figure why look like every other dick in New York, don't worry though, my briefs are white" he leaned in, eyes locked into hers. "Is that your thing, white?" he smirked, his eyes dragging down to her breasts in appraisal of her white body-con dress.

"Are you trying to say that I've got a stick up my arse?"

"I love how you say arse, "his eyes glittered with excitement" and no, I wouldn't dare say such a thing. I hardly know you, not yet"

Unable to draw her eyes away from his gaze, she tilted her head back as her hand searched for her empty glass.

"First time jitters or you're just admiring the chandelier?"

"Yes, that's it. First time jitters" she quickly assured him, her eyes darting around the crowded bar.

"What're you drinking?" he asked, beckoning for the bartender.

"Dirty martini" she told the burly barman. As she watched him retrieve a fresh bottle of London gin from the wall to wall bottles behind the bar, she wondered if tonight had been a good idea. Sure she was conducting research for her column on anonymous sex but she could've just googled the damn thing. It would've saved her an embarrassing evening.

"What's your kink? "Fetish 101's voice broke her from spell as she jerked her head toward him.

"I beg your-?"

"Asphyxiation?" he raised an eyebrow as he pulled her chiffon scarf free from around her neck weaving it between his long fingers. She stared, eyes flitting to the scarf and then back at him. She wondered what he was going to do with her scarf, she liked that scarf and she had sweated to get it. Sales at Bergdorf were no joke and every New York female knew that.

"Water sports?" he continued, slowly slipping her scarf between his fingers "Maybe you like being spanked" one corner of his mouth edged upward and her heart fluttered. Jerking up from her torrent of lust, she looked up as the barman placed their drinks in front of them. She swiftly picked up her murky glass of martini and raised it to her hungry lips. He seemed less keen on his bourbon as he studied the glass and its contents.

"How about voyeurism? You like watching don't you?" he asked, watching her over the rim of his glass. "Or maybe you like being watched?" he grazed his bottom lip with his teeth as he placed the glass back on the marble counter. A wave of heat surged through her and she pressed her lips tightly together to stifle whatever groan would crawl out from her parched throat. The martini wasn't working.

"Do we have to do this here, now?" she finally said or rather whispered as if people could hear the torrid conversation over the music.

"Would you rather we talk dirty later…after we've fuc-?" his voice was low and husky, just the right ingredients to harden her nipples.

"No" she cried slapping his thigh but swiftly removed her hand when she realized what she was holding. Christ, even his thighs were rock hard and warm beneath his sleek black Tom Ford pant suit. Bonnie imagined her legs twined with his, entangled between damp cotton sheets.

"We're building a circle of trust here Bonnie" he smiled sweetly, placing his warm hand over hers.

"Well it's rather unnerving" she said shakily, taking another gulp of her drink.

"I like my cocktail served with a side of profanity, how about you?" he leaned in to slip her scarf back around her neck and his calloused fingers briefly brushed against her neck, prickling her flesh.

"How abut we talk about uhm…the weather? "Anxiously, she dipped her finger into her drink and licked it.

"This is the part where I pay the bill and we head back to my place"

"For what exactly?" she gulped, perfectly aware of what could be in store for her.

"For an education in profanity" he smiled, taking out his wallet and slipping out his black card. Sliding his card across to the barman, he eyed her over his glass then set it back down on the counter. Bonnie poised her lips over her own glass, it was now or never.

The article wasn't about to write itself after all.


	2. The Foreplay

This wasn't safe.

She was being completely impractical and that was so unlike her.

Bonnie didn't even know his real name and calling him Fetish 101 just seemed ridiculous. She was new to the scene granted but this seemed rather dangerous. Sure, the man was insanely good looking, like Ryan Gosling good looking, like that shy guy from Felicity good looking but that wasn't enough. She was pretty sure that Ted Bundy and the rest had been pretty good looking too.

"Elizabeth, get in the car" he ordered, his gaze sliding down over the swell of her breasts to her slim hips before gliding back up to her glittering eyes. Bonnie's mouth tightened, her eyes darting from fetish 101 to the black town car and the waiting chauffer. She scoffed at her own pseudonym. She'd picked the name Elizabeth McGraw on a whim after signing up on the site and it seemed fitting for a site dealing with casual sexual encounters.

With outstretched hands, he moved closer to her and asked, "Are you scared?"

"No" she replied, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice. Clenching her eyes shut, Bonnie felt his hands move to rest on her shoulders. They felt warm, heavy as his thumb traced a throbbing vein on her neck. She sucked in a breath when his hands quested to the nape of her neck, fingers sliding into her hair. Suddenly Manhattan was too hot, too stifling with his belching summer heat.

"Maybe" she finally confessed, eyes sliding open to track his pulsing jaw muscle. He was so close she could smell him, so close that his heart seemed to beat inside her own chest.

"Just think of it as a sexual odyssey" he breathed against her neck, his heat tickling the shell of her ear. With a shaky gasp as if she suddenly sensed the concrete ground beneath her feet, Bonnie placed her palms against his chest and gave a gentle push. Her eyes drifted back to the waiting car and she gave a slight nod.

"Can I call you something else besides fetish 101?" Bonnie asked once they were inside the car, her clammy hands gripping her sparkly clutch. She heard him snort and feign a chuckle before he lowered his head, leaning closer to her again.

"John Gray, since we're quoting the movie Nine and a half weeks" he murmured, his voice working her neck like molten fingers. Her lips tweaked into a half smile, she was enjoying his sense of humor.

But she still wasn't satisfied, "What're you going to do to me?" she pressed on, her eyes fixed on the review mirror even though she could feel his thigh pressed against hers.

"No spoilers, Liz" he purred, sending another shiver through her body.

-oOo-

"Take off your shoes?" Came the instruction the minute they ventured inside his sprawling apartment with its eighteen foot high ceilings and polished hardwood floors. Bonnie's eyes rushed from his minimalistic leather furniture to the panoramic views of the Hudson River.

"My shoes?" her eyes widened, fleeting to his bare feet.

"Yes. You can put them back on when we're fucking" he flung the sentence over his shoulder as he proceeded toward the long Maplewood bar. Bonnie took a deep breath and slipped off her stilettos. The floorboards were warm under the pads of her feet as she strolled to the bar. She settled on one of the leather barstools lining the bar and casually slipped off her scarf as he set two martini glasses in front of her.

"You have a beautiful home" she complemented, scanning a pair of antique Buddha statues with curios eyes.

"All the better to fuck you in, Liz" he curled his accent around the words and she wasn't sure whether to blush or take offence to his vulgarity. He didn't bother to look up at her as he said this but when he finished assembling her cocktail his eyes swung up to stare at her.

"A dirty martini for a very dirty girl scout" he smiled, sliding the drink toward her.

"Thank you" she smiled and took a slow sip.

"Have I told you how scrumptious you look?"

"Thank you"

"Stop being so polite, Liz" he exhaled, running a hand down his white dress shirt before unbuttoning the first three buttons. The fake name was starting to annoy her. She wanted her name on his lips, wanted him to caress the vowels like his tongue caressed his dirty martini.

"Ok" Bonnie replied as she drained her drink. She wasn't exactly sure what was wrong with her, maybe she was malfunctioning because she wasn't acting like her usual self. There was no banter with this guy, none of her usual smart comebacks. She was like a dud, a dead slug with no personality and she couldn't understand why. Plucking an olive from her empty glass, she watched as he walked to his elegant entertainment center.

"You like Nina Simone?" he asked, holding up a record.

"I'm familiar with her" she shrugged, eyes gliding over his broad shoulders and down his back.

"I saw a show of hers in Italy once with my mother. She was crazy about Miss Simone"

"Yeah" her throat was feeling tight again but her head was swimming. She had the right measure of intoxication, she thought as she swung her feet off the barstool. Bonnie ducked behind the bar as Nina Simone's soothing voice filled the apartment.

"Refill?" he raised an eyebrow as he sauntered back toward her. She could feel the heat emanating from his crisp white shirt and his tousled muddy blond hair.

"You judging?" she bit her lip, slipping a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Never" he fixed his eyes on her, "The drunker you are…"

"The filthier I get?" she suggested, lifting up a bottle of London gin.

"What is this, dirty mad libs?"

"There's an idea!" she chuckled, knocking back a shot.

"I'm a verb, Liz. I don't talk, I do" he drawled, eyes digging into hers making her swallow.

"But you keep teasing?" Bonnie leaned over the wooden counter, running her tongue over her teeth.

"I keep teasing?" his whiskey-colored eyes narrowed as he inched closer toward her.

"You should start practicing what you preach" she dragged her tongue along her bottom lip, tasting the olive brine from her cocktail.

"Now we're talking, "he chuckled, "Carpe Noctem!" he murmured, his nose grazing hers as his heated breath fanned her cheek.


	3. Chapter 3

"Open your mouth" He said reaching into a small silver bucker for a cube of ice. Bonnie's eyes flickered open, a breath seeping out of her mouth as he slid the ice along her bottom lip. Slowly he traced it along her quivering lips, easing it down her throbbing neck. She loved the contrast of its icy wetness and his heated breath on her neck.

Eliciting a sigh, she arched her neck and breathed, "I think I might need to lie down for this"

"Anxious aren't we?" he ran his tongue along the shell of her ear, teeth nipping at her earlobe. His voice seemed to wind around her, his tremble sending shivers straight through to her aching groin.

"It's been a while" she moaned as he fingered her dress, revealing a white lacy bra. She bit back a cry when the ice touched her shoulder. Gasping now, her eyes sprang forth at him as he dragged her bra strap down her shoulder, hot tongue soothing the pain of the cold ice. She was heady from his scent, woodsy leather and olive blossoms.

"Then I'll be soft, gentle and easy…" his lips curved into a broad grin, "and slow, very very slow"

"No" she warned with a lowly growl, unable to control herself.

Bemused, he looked up, hands gliding to the back of her neck "No?"

"You have my permission to be as hard as possible"

"Well look at you, busting out of that shell" warm hands slid to the curve of her waist before cupping her lush buttocks.

"It's the gin talking" she chuckled, her eyes flitting to his lips. She could feel his fingers crawling down her hips, slipping down her thighs and creeping under her dress to cup her mound over her panties.

"You have a beautiful mouth" he murmured against her lips, his thumb tracing the edge of her panties. For a moment she couldn't think, the pleasure was too great.

"I have a beautiful everything, "she smirked, gripping his broad shoulders to steady herself "you did tell me to stop being so polite"

"And so I did" his fingers worked against the lace, long and dizzy strokes down her throbbing clit. Bonnie was no longer sure of place or time, all she knew and all she was greatly aware of was the pleasure he was giving her.

"Do you do everything I tell you to?" his fingers moved up again, damp over her bare shoulder blades to the nape of her neck.

"Would you like me to do everything you tell me to?" Bonnie blew a shaky breath when his hands fisted her hair, tilting her head up so that she could look at him square in the eyes.

"I'd like to violate that pretty mouth of yours and I want you to tell me how much you like it" he traced a thumb along her quivering lip before dipping it onto her mouth. Bonnie's first reaction was to suck as she savored the feel and taste of her arousal in her mouth. She flicked her tongue around his thumb, teasing, and big green eyes boring into his. With a strained groan, he lifted her up over his shoulder, one hand on her ass.

As he carried her up the stairs, long metallic rungs that clanked each time he took a step, she could hardly comprehend anything.

All she knew was that she wanted him right then but when she clung to him he freed himself and walked to a wing chair in front of his floor to ceiling window. Bonnie blinked owlishly, her gaze adjusting to the dazzling city lights that stretched beneath them.

"Where are you from?" he asked, pouring himself drink. It took her some time to adjust to the new environment as well as the new tenor in his voice. His phrases were clipped and commanding.

"What makes you think I'm not born and bred in New York?" she placed both hands on her hips trying to look nonchalant as she scanned the room. When her eyes settled on the big sprawling bed anchoring the room, she sucked in a deep breath. She wondered how many women had actually slept in his bed. He was swiftly beginning to strike her as a creepy dungeon's type of guy.

"Turn around" he said flatly, "Unzip your dress"

Gingerly, she pivoted around to face away from his and began to drag the zipper down to the base of her spine. Slowly she slid it off her shoulders before glancing over to look at him.

"You have that Alice in Wonderland look about you" he drawled, eyes focused on her hips as she skimmed the dress over them.

"Are you saying I look naïve?" she raised an eyebrow, turning around to face him but he stopped her with his hand and motioned her to face the other way again.

"Take off your bra"

Slowly she unclasped it and watched it fall to the hardwood floor like an airy cloud. He was quiet for a while but she could feel his gaze sweeping over her. She didn't move, waiting for further instructions.

"I'm saying you look like you're ready for an adventure" he finally rasped and Bonnie could hear the ice rattling inside his glass before he took a sip, "Bend over and put your hands on the bed" he instructed and she obeyed. It was becoming instinct now, like he was pulling invisible strings attached to her arms and legs, attached to her core.

"And will you be my rabbit hole?" her palms pressed against the white Egyptian cotton.

"Speaking of holes, take off your panties" he said very matter of factly. There was no hesitation anymore as she reached for the elastic band.

"Slowly, darling. Pretend it's me undressing you" he directed and she heard the spark of a lighter before a strong cigar smell filtered through the room. She slid the lace over her hips, dragging them down her legs until she was standing there in nothing but her silver stilettos.

"Manhattan is a bubble and trust me, it's not as cosmopolitan as one might think" he told her, blowing smoke.

"Toss them here" he ordered and she complied.

"Its crawling with three types of women; bimbettes, feminists and lesbians" he shrugged his shoulders, pressing her panties over his nose. He inhaled deeply, a hint of a smile on his face before tossing them aside.

"How misogynistic of you" Bonnie offered, crossing her arms over her bare breasts.

"Turn around" his gaze dragged down her body, over every inch of her, "Get on the bed "

She complied again, crawling to the middle of the bed, head over the side so he could have a view of her breasts and her legs. She propped herself up on her elbows and caught sight of the mirror on his ceiling. The discovery startled her at first, as if she had discovered someone watching them.

"Touch yourself" he said from somewhere in her haze.

"I'd rather you touched me"

"Be an obedient little cunt and touch yourself" he sipped his drink, and then as if recalling his manners, "Please" he added.

Slowly, Bonnie traced the lines on her ribcage, sliding her hands up to her breasts. His eyes didn't leave her body the entire time; they slid down to the curve of her hips, coursing back up to her hardened nipples. He watched with careful intensity as she pinched her nipples but did not once shift from his seating position. He mapped her lush curves with his hooded eyes, one hand rattling the ice in his bourbon glass. The idea of his bare flesh pressed against hers made her shudder and crave him even more. Having him watch her like this was thrilling torture. Bonnie felt completely exposed and at his complete disposal.

"I bet you taste delicious" he rasped, tracing his wet tongue along his bottom lip.

"Taste yourself "

She spread her legs a little wider, dipping a finger inside her sleek folds. She felt so exposed but with every stroke, she grew more comfortable. She was starting to like having him watch her; the idea excited her, his breathing excited her. She felt his gaze on her fingers as they pressed harder between legs.

"Taste yourself" he reminded her, his breathed hitched as he gulped down his drink. Bonnie brought two fingers to her mouth and twirled her tongue around them before dipping back down to her center.

"Are you wet?" he groaned, nails gripping the leather arm rests.

"Yes" she moaned, eyes sliding shut. She was so damn close.

"What do you taste like?"

"Like filth" she gritted her teeth, hips thrashing up eagerly as a wave washed over her.

It was quiet for a long while. The room filled with Nina Simone's voice, his rattling ice, and her heavy breathing.

"This is the part where my driver takes you home" his voice was soft as he rose from his chair. He padded to the phone seating on his nightstand. Bonnie half expected someone to come out yelling 'hi, you're on candid camera!' but quickly remembered that this was New York. This was the city of casual sex and casual encounters had their own protocol.

And this was one of those protocols.

"Its nothing personal, I just enjoy sleeping on my own" he glanced over his shoulder while waiting for his driver to pick up the phone. Shaking her head, she scrambled to her feet and hunted the floor for her clothes.

"Your house, your rules" she spat between the quest for her bra and panties. She heard him speak to the driver in short, clipped sentences before hanging up.

"I'd like to see you again" he placed his cigar on a black ceramic ashtray then drained his bourbon. Rage mounted inside her as she dressed but she refused to raise her voice. She refused to make a spectacle of herself for some typical Manhattan narcissist's amusement.

"No" she replied dryly.

"No?"

"My pussy, my rules." She snarled, blood rushing to her cheeks.

"I've offended you, haven't I?"

Incredulous, Bonnie thought, Manhattan men were a breed on their own. She slipped on her shoes, intent on wearing them now and branding his damn precious floor with them.

"My feelings are my responsibility and I won't let you determine my self-worth"

"Your shrink must be so proud"

"Oh joy, how I love sarcasm!" she spat, yanking his door open.

"Where are you going?" he followed her down the stair case as Bonnie lunged down the steps two at a time. Why was she was so angry? These were the rules of casual sex. She had been a sex columnist in New York long enough to know this. She'd also engaged in a couple of one night stands to know how this worked but it was how he did it. It was cold and calculating. He was not chivalrous at all and she felt duped into thinking he was something he truly was not.

"Home!"

"Alfred will take you home"

"Don't worry your pretty little head"

"I insist"

"You're just a filthy, rude pile of shit" she hissed, hand poised over his doorknob.

"That seemed to get you all wet a minute ago" shrugging, he leaned a shoulder against the door and watched her through his long eyelashes. "This rude pile of shit made you come over and over Liz, or have you forgotten?"

"I made myself come, you were just an audience" Bonnie cocked her head, chin jutted in defiance.

"I was the coach, darling" he grinned, big dimpled and obnoxious "You needed me to come"

"Unlock the door!"

"Are you hungry?" he smiled, white teeth lighting up his tanned face.

"Open this door!" Bonnie demanded, brows furrowed.

"There's a place around the corner, it serves the best basturma in the city and their vodka isn't half bad"

"You've lost your mind haven't you?" she screamed, eyes wide as she glared at him, "Christ I've been with a freaking lunatic-"

"And you liked it"

She didn't know how but the door finally clicked open and she was in his private elevator. Before he could follow her out, she quickly punched in the code he'd seen him use earlier. Her breath was coming in fast, anxious rasps as she rode the lift to the ground floor. By the time she strode past the doorman, Alfred was waiting outside the town car waiting for her. Bonnie walked past in a huff and lifted her arm to hail down a cab. She wouldn't give the asshole the satisfaction of actually using his chauffer.

There was a silver lining, she thought. She had her article.

As soon as a yellow taxi pulled up next to her, she dove inside and gave the driver her street address. She doubted if Caroline would be home. It was a Saturday night after all; in fact she was praying that she wouldn't be home. Bonnie needed the apartment all to herself tonight. She wanted a steaming hot bath, three shots of tequila and her big comfy bed. Scratching inside her clutch she discovered something that wasn't there, her Hermes scarf.

"Fuck my life!" she screamed, head hitting the headrest and the cabbie merely glanced at her through his review mirror. He gave her that knowing smile that said yes, I've seen it all. This is New York.


	4. Amuse Bouche

Bonnie's eyes were still raw when she woke up, her thighs tangled in sheets. She kicked the sheets off her body and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She sat like that for a while, rubbing her eyes and listening to the traffic outside. When the aroma of burning bacon wafted through to her bedroom, she realized that Caroline was home.  
Every Sunday she tried to make a home cooked breakfast and every Sunday they ended up at the corner deli ordering sesame bagels with sour cream. There was no place for domesticity in Manhattan. It was all about breaking sexual taboos, excitement and the race to climb the career ladder. These were her thoughts and she was sticking by them even if Caroline had other ideas.  
"Morning!" Bonnie chimed, slapping the kitchen door open. Caroline stood in the middle of a smoke riddled kitchen holding what appeared to be a spatula. She laughed running a hand through her messy blond hair and Bonnie leaned against the door regarding her. The first thing Bonnie noticed were the boxer shorts, striped blue and looking very snug on her roommate.  
"Hey, should I get the fire extinguisher?" a male voice materialized from the smog, startling Bonnie. It was only once she recognizes his face that her shoulders settle back down, her hands shoved in the pockets of her dressing gown.  
"Tyler" Bonnie greeted, sweeping her gaze over him. He's the ex, she thought or at least he was the ex two months ago. She wondered if she'd missed something, maybe she'd been too busy with work to realize that Caroline had been dating the douchebag again. Granted, yes the man was as sexy and as hot as the hinges of hell but he was an underpaid advertising executive with more than a few notches on his belt. Caroline was making a mistake, Bonnie was sure of it but she wasn't woman enough to admit to her own error in judgement wth her little escapade with Mr. English.  
Unfortunately for her, it was a mistake that had cost her a great deal. Her Hermes scarf was now collateral damage.  
-oOo—  
When Leah ushered her into her boss's massive office, Bonnie was relatively calm. She was even rather excited because the article was turning out to be a gem. Who knew that writing about the sex one was actually having could be so much fun. Ok, maybe sex was the wrong word to use because he hadn't actually penetrated her. Did sex even mean penetration? She was in the middle of this serious debate in her head when her boss looked up from her telephone call.  
Hayley Marshall held up a finger indicating that she'd be only be a minute. Nodding, Bonnie directed her attention outside where Manhattan lay bustling eight feet from the ground. After a while, Hayley hung up the phone and looked up at her. She gave Bonnie a brittle smile while she reached for her Elizabeth Arden face mist spray. What followed was a long tedious exercise of Hayley preening herself, right down to applying a fresh coat of blood red lipstick.  
"How's the article coming along?" She finally asked, rubbing lotion into her hands.  
"It's practically writing itself" Bonnie crossed her arms against her chest, the white tank leather dress pressing against her dewy skin.  
"Good to hear" She nodded as she reclined back against her white leather chair. Bonnie was about to add something, hopefully something to help advance her career at the paper when the door flew open.  
"Klaus, darling!" Hayley lurched to her feet, arms outstretched as she bounded for him. Bonnie's eyes darted to the door and pursued the man in a dark grey three piece Brioni suit. He looked scintillating in the European cut and could see why Hayley was so smitten with him. When Bonnie saw the man following shortly behind Klaus Mikaelson, she stumbled backward. The universe had a sick sense of humor, she thought fixing her eyes to the marble floor. Her stomach clenched and her skin tingled but she steadied herself, rooted to the spot.  
"Why didn't you call?" Hayley was babbling.  
"Then it wouldn't be a surprise, love"  
Bonnie heard the distinct English brogue as the two of them exchanged pleasantries. Salacious gossip around the office said that Hayley had been involved in a torrid affair with a Mikaelson heir and that her daughter had been a result of that affair. She'd never actually seen Klaus Mikaelson in person because they moved around in different circles and now he stood a few feet from her and she couldn't look up because of the man accompanying him.  
"And Kol, looking dapper as usual" Hayley cooed and Bonnie imagined her tossing her dark hair over her shoulder.  
"Thank you, sweetheart" he replied, his voice ripping through her gut.  
"You back in the city?"  
"Let's just say I grew sick of India and Europe is a drag" he drawled languish before something stopped him in his tracks. Bonnie noted the slight hitch in his breath before he resumed again like nothing had happened. Kol Mikaelson, the minute Bonnie heard his real name she knew who she was. He was other Mikaelson heir, the boy the family had lost to wanderlust. Over the years she had seen pictures of Klaus on page six, read the gossip blogs about his numerous affairs with actresses and the tumulus marriage to Camille O'Connell. Raising her eyes, her gaze collided with his and she gasped. Kol's lips formed her fake name, the hint of as smile tweaking the corners of his mouth. He didn't look as shocked to see her as she obviously was and he wore nonchalance quite well. Her eyes followed the afternoon sun across his ruffled hair, coasted down to his golden eyes and drifted over his shoulders covered in a slim-fit summer sweater. It was a plunging V-neck, sleeves rolled up to showcase his arms and the Breitling watch around his wrist. He looked like he had just stepped out of Italian GQ and the fact that he smelled like salty sea air today made her want him even more. She wanted to be stranded in some beach with him where the waves pounded the shore while he made love to her.  
The memory made her cheeks burn and she dropped her gaze once more. She tugged at her fake red pearls, tracing a sandal along the patterns on the marble floor before glancing up at him again. She felt sure that they could all hear her staggering heartbeat.  
Hayley jerked her gaze away from Klaus and blurted, "Bonnie, you're still here?"  
Bonnie's back straightened as she shot her boss a wide-eyed look. When she didn't offer a response, the brunette merely scowled and snapped, "Pick up my Dior coat at the dry cleaners will you?"  
"You mean Leah should pick up your-"Bonnie shook her head, motioning toward the entrance where Leah, Hayley's assistant was busy assembling a pile of papers. Running errands for Hayley wasn't part of her job description that was Leah's area of expertise. Hers was to churn out fantastic articles that garnered readership from females eighteen to thirty-five.  
"I said Bonnie and I'm looking at you, aren't I?" she crossed the floor heading back to her desk. Opening her purse, she fished out her wallet and pulled out a ticket and a few dollars for her to pay the dry-cleaning bill. Tentatively, Bonnie stepped forward and took the ticket and money from Hayley. She could still feel Kol's eyes on her and Klaus's curious glare.  
"It's the one on Broadway" Hayley explained, sizing her up with her big brown eyes before sauntering to Klaus again. "Ok, run along now!" she quickly added, waving Bonnie away with her hand. With a veiled scorn, Bonnie turned on her heel and stomped out of the office leaving behind a zesty trail of Marc Jacob's Oh Lola perfume.  
With flushed cheeks and a disdain for all things Hayley, she made her way down to Broadway. Locating the dry cleaners amongst throngs of people and towering skyscrapers was like locating the last Chanel flap back during black Friday. When she eventually hopped back into a cab to Fifth Avenue, she was quite happy to be done with the exercise.  
"Didn't you get the memo?" Leah asked as soon as Bonnie barreled into Hayley's office, the rustling coat in her hand.  
"What now?" she puffed and blew out tendrils of hair from her forehead.  
"Hayley asked you to drop the coat off at the restaurant"  
"What restaurant?" she slapped the plastic wrapped coat on Leah's desk before crossing her arms against her chest.  
"She's having lunch with Klaus and Kol at Daniel"  
"You're kidding right?"  
"Yes I kid because Hayley is so awesome like that" Leah rolled her brown eyes, picked up the coat from her desk and handed it back to her.  
-oOo-  
She stood for a moment at the threshold of the restaurant, scanning the elegant space for the group. When she finally spotted them through the crowd, she made her way to the table with the maître d' following shortly behind. A number of eyes followed her as she ventured deeper inside the restaurant, her gaze darting from the chandeliers to the delicate French décor.  
"Bonnie, what the hell are you doing here?" Hayley shot her a look; mouth poised over a glass of chardonnay.  
"You asked me to drop off your coat" she stammered, looking from Klaus then back to Hayley. She was trying to avoid Kol's gaze by all means.  
"That's ridiculous!" Hayley spat, eyes widening as she sized Bonnie up.  
"Leah said-"  
"I didn't ask you to drop off anything. In fact I-"  
"I did" Kol raised his hand like a naughty little school boy. "I told Leah you could drop off Hayley's coat" he shrugged, the smile carrying over to his eyes. Bonnie blinked twice, not quite comprehending why he would do such a thing.  
"Take a seat" he told her levelly and she watched as he rose from his chair to pull out seat for her. "You must be tired" he added, not taking his eyes off her. The maître d' took Hayley's coat from her hands and Bonnie settled into the seat next to Kol. She was still perplexed as to why he wanted to spend more than the obligatory minutes with her after the manner in which they parted.  
"Would you like something to drink?" a waiter materialized to enquire and her eyes rushed to Hayley.  
"She'll have some champagne" Kol replied absentmindedly as he refilled his glass with water.  
"It's working hours" Hayley explained, not bothering to look up from her menu.  
"What time does she knock off?"  
"Five"  
"That's three hours from now," Kol grinned, eyes gliding over Hayley in her red peplum dress, "and since this is bound to be a three hour lunch, well we can say that Bonnie is off the clock"  
Bonnie's eyes flitted from Hayley to Kol the entire time as they discussed her like she wasn't there. She caught sight of Klaus narrowing his eyes at her. He looked just about as intrigued with the scene as she was.  
"Champagne it is" she told the waiter gleefully and Hayley shifted in her won seat as she gulped down her white wine. The trio conversed over a cacophony of voices and clinking plates as she observed them. The waiter came back with her champagne and she swiftly snatched it from his tray. She could hear Hayley groan under her breath but she didn't care. She sat back and allowed the server to place an avocado and salmon amuse bouche in front of her. It looked too pretty and sculptural, like something one would see at the Guggenheim museum. She loved the smooth emerald green of the avocado and the delicate pinks of the salmon but the sparkling rose of grapefruit shavings on top of a dollop of white cream really made her heart flutter. Gingerly, she picked up the spoon and slipped it into her mouth.  
"Do you like it?" Kol asked, almost breathing into her ear he was so close.  
"It's delicious" she assured him, her tongue caressing the roof of her mouth.  
"Is the grapefruit tart on tongue?" he breathed against her neck. He was seating so close to her that Bonnie doubted their voices carried to the other couple. This didn't stop her from blushing however as she took another sip of champagne.  
"Yes, "she nodded, her fingertips tracing the mouth of the flute.  
"And the salmon? So light, almost translucent shavings of silky pink that melt on your tongue" his tongue stroked every syllable and she squirmed in her seat, the embroidery digging into flesh. Involuntarily, her thigh pressed against his and a moan escaped her lips. She loved the way the words rumbled in his chest, loved the way they vibrated against her groin. She could feel him everywhere, wrapped around her clenched torso, clenched around her nipples and she welcomed the sensation.  
"Pink, silky, moist folds of salmon" Kol murmured, his tongue touching the rim of his wine glass. He slid his hand beneath the white tablecloth, startling her when his fingers brushed against her thigh. Kol tasting his wine was like Kol tasting her and raw desire wrapped around her so tight that she forgot the couple dining with them. He slipped a hand under dress and she swallowed back a moan. She observed as Hayley forked up bits of her warm goat cheese salad into her mouth and her fingers dug into the table.  
"Try some caviar; it's like a party on your tongue" the words rolled like butter from Kol's tongue, his fingers crawling underneath her panties. He teased her, delicate strokes running down her clit before plunging a finger inside. The grapefruit was tart on her tongue, the salmon slippery in her mouth but when the caviar crushed against the roof of her tongue it elicited a breathy moan.  
"Do you like it?" he breathed and she wasn't sure if he was referring to the caviar or his marvelous fingers. She loved both, Christ she loved both.  
"I love it" closing her eyes, she lifted her hips to catch his fingers as another two joined the party. Bonnie only paused momentarily when Hayley stole a curious glance at her. She chose to clench herself around his fingers rather than rock her hips against him. This seemed to draw less attention.  
"Take off your knickers" Kol said gruffly, fingers skillfully plunging inside her while his thumb caressed her moist clit.  
"What?"  
"Take off your panties" he translated because seemingly he thought the definition of knickers was lost on her.  
"What is it with you and my panties?" she breathed heavily as his fingers slipped out of her.  
"Can we have a normal conversation for like five minutes?" She chuckled breathily, "We could talk about Che Guevera and the Cuban revolution"  
"I'm more of a Fidel Castro man, myself" he teased, observing the fingers that had been inside her before giving each an attentive lick with his tongue. Suddenly the thought of his tongue doing what his nimble fingers had been doing brought her hurtling over the edge. How was it possible for a man to make her feel all this, this want, and this need for him?  
"Get up, go to the bathroom, third stall on your right and take off your knickers" Kol said slowly as he sliced his chicken cordon bleu. He slipped a tender morsel of it into his mouth and Bonnie stared at him, transfixed.  
He might as well have said third stall on your right is where you'll find orgasmic bliss. Without saying a word, she swiped her napkin off her lap and placed it on the table before excusing herself with a nod.  



End file.
